


Man of my dreams

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:15:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25134478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Klinger complains about being lonely and gets more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Man of my dreams

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence to see Klinger in the Swamp. He delivered the mail, brought messages, joined in on poker games, and occasionally got brave enough to accept a drink from the still. Hawkeye could tell, however, that Klinger wasn’t there for one of the usual reasons.

The clerk confirmed as much when he said, “Hawk, I need some advice.”

“Shoot,” said the surgeon.

“Well, hang on before you say yes. It’s kind of, uh, personal.”

Hawkeye’s eyes came alight. “Ooo, goody. I just ran out of nudist magazines, so this really couldn’t come at a better time.”

Klinger still felt kind of bad laying his problems on the other man’s shoulders. Hawkeye’s prematurely grey hair was not the result of genetics, after all, but that sure sounded like a yes. “Say that you were, uh, seeing someone... but, well, not really seeing them?”

“This isn’t a section 8 thing is it? Dating a ghost? H. G. Wells does Korea? Because I can call ythey.”

Klinger groaned. “No, sir, honest! I’m really asking for actual help here.”

“Alright. Then explain.”

“Okay. Say someone overheard you saying you were really lonely and the next thing you know ... this person...,”

Hawkeye held up a hand. “I just want to say, up front, that I think it’s really adorable the way you’re going to this very conscious effort to protect the identity of your new friend, especially when you know I will make it my life’s mission to solve this most delicious mystery.” The last part was said in a terrible Sherlock Holmes accent learned from Saturday matinees.

Klinger had worried about precisely that. He knew how dogged Hawk could be, how curious - how  _ bored _ . “I thought as much, Hawk, but I just don’t want you to, y’know, embarrass this person.”  _ Or torment them. Please don’t torment them. _

“I pledge myself to good behavior following my inevitable discovery,” said the surgeon. “Now tell me the rest.”

“Right. So, this person,”

“Sticking with that, huh?”

Klinger glared.

“Alright, alright. Just thought we could save time.”

“This person,” he continued, “finds out you’re lonely. Then, in the middle of the night they start showing up ...and making you a whole lot  _ less _ lonely.”

Hawkeye’s eyes could have passed for an Andy Warhol representation of dinner plates. “Klinger, you’ve found my dream girl!”

“I get that it sounds good. I mean it is. Good. What happens and all. But then poof!”

“Poof?”

“By the time I get over how good it is, this person is gone. I never get to kiss them. I never get to, y’know...”

“Reciprocate?” Hawkeye offered.

“Right! I don’t even know if this is a real thing!”

The surgeon looked utterly addled. “Let me make sure I understand. You get in your bed at night with your curlers and your peignoir and go to sleep. A little while later you are awakened by some gorgeous creature who has spent her day thinking of ways to make your dreams come true in nocturnal technicolor. You never have to go on a date, utter a pick up line, or buy a gift. What’s the problem again?”

Klinger had expected this too. “I’m not like you, Hawkeye.”

“I know, I know. Your heart and your body are a matched set. So what are you going to do? Dump this after-hours enchantress?” He waggled his eyebrows. “If so, can you please send her to me?”

“I just want to figure out how to make h-this person stay.”

Hawkeye had his thinking cap on. “I’m assuming you can’t make a midnight visit of your own because of our lovely communal living arrangements,” he said, thinking that the woman must live in the nurses’ tent - dreaded domain of Major Margaret Houlihan.

_ You can say that again, _ thought Klinger, holding back a chuckle as he imagined what trials such a visit might entail.

“Have you tried not succumbing to this woman’s charms? Keeping your wits about you?”

“Believe me, sir, I’ve tried. H-this person is very good.”

Hawkeye swatted at him with one of his magazines. “I am so insanely jealous of you right now! I can hear how good she is in your voice! How did I miss her? How did she pick  _ you _ over  _ me _ ?”

“Taste is a funny thing, sir.” Coming from a man most often found in a dress, the adage took on new weight.

“Well, if she has a similarly-minded girlfriend, I’m borrowing one of your dresses.”

“I have a green that would look great on you, Hawk, but that doesn’t solve my problem.”

“Right. So you can’t go there and when she comes to you, you’re butter in her hot little hands... hmmm.” He clapped his hands together. “That’s it! You need to catch those pretty little fingers of hers! It shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve got oodles of fabric. String some up for decor and use it as a net! I’ll bet once you get to work on her, she won’t mind getting caught one bit!”

It was insane, but it was also the only idea going. Klinger decided to give it a try. After all, nothing else had worked.

“Oh, and Klinger?” Hawk said as he left.

“Yes, sir?”

“If you ever need a night off, I am 100% willing to put on your clothes and take your place.”

Klinger left, laughing.  _ Oh, Hawk, I should let you just to see the expression on your face! _

***

When he returned, days later, Hawkeye handed him a glass without being asked to. “This is not the face of a conquering hero,” he teased.

Klinger wasn’t so deep in despair that he couldn’t laugh at his mixed up love life. “Good eye, Captain.”

“Has your succubus vanished into so much smoke and mist, leaving you without succor?”

“Nope.” He drank deeply from the homemade brew that Hawkeye called his “elixir of life” and wondered what his low-key lover would think about being called a succubus. “But the net didn’t work. It seemed like it might for a minute, but this person has really clever fingers.”

“I thought you knew that already.”

Klinger glared.

“Okay, okay. So how did it go?” He crossed his toes in hope that his advice hadn’t driven Klinger’s midnight squeeze back into the dark.

“Well, h-this person,”

“If you insist on this pointless secrecy, can we at least come up with a code name?”

Klinger ignored this. “I thought they might not come back, you know, after the net.”

“But they did.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Hawkeye barked a laugh. “God, I hate you. Look at you all relaxed and happy and in love. Do you know how lucky you are?” Then he realized what he’d said and a hand flew to his mouth. “That’s the whole problem, isn’t it? You’re in love! Klinger you have to tell me who it is.”

To succeed in his goal, Klinger knew he might have to do just that, but he wasn’t ready yet. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “I’m in love with someone I can’t catch. Most of the time I can’t even see ‘em!”

Hawkeye snapped his fingers, signaling the arrival of a live wire of an idea. “See! See! You can see her in the daytime! In the camp! That’s where you lay everything on the line!”

Once again, it wasn’t the Corporal’s favorite idea, but once again, it was the only one going. Hopefully it would pan out better than the last.

***

Klinger spent the next afternoon getting yelled at by everyone. Radar started into him when he caused a litter to dip with a soldier atop it. Margaret piled on when he bumped against an instrument tray fresh out of the autoclave. He wasn’t fast enough with the x-rays for BJ. Potter’s operating table was back-to-back tragedies, so he didn’t notice the abuse being heaped on his clerk. Exhausted and harassed, Klinger ducked into a supply closet to compose himself. Hawkeye found him there.

“You really are in love. But if it’s going to make you clumsy, you need to knit a teflon cape, Klinger.”

“It’s fine, sir. I can take it.”

“I take it that confessing your love in the harsh light of day didn’t go any better than your night fishing?”

Klinger sighed so pathetically that Hawkeye actually pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, Klinger.”

“It’s alright. I guess I should be happy to have what I’ve got, right?”

Hawk knew bravado when he heard it. “How can I help?”

Klinger muttered something about the third time being a charm and proceeded to throw himself off a cliff (sans wings and fuzzy pink slippers this time). “Sir, is there any way you and BJ could make plans to be somewhere other than the Swamp tonight?”

Hawkeye’s brow wrinkled with confusion. Then his eyes brightened. “Ah, an actual roach motel. I like it. I’ll have Radar scare up some flowers.”

“Thank you, sir!”

Hawkeye couldn’t prove it, but it seemed like Klinger might actually be shaking with happiness. “One condition, though.”

“Yes, sir?”

“If you get up to anything too debauched, do it in Winchester’s bunk.”

***

The next time the Corporal and the Captain met, it was at Rosie’s bar.

“You make more money than me, Hawk,” Klinger said when the captain took a seat at the bar. “You’re buying.”

“My tab, Igor,” Pierce told the bartender.

When they had their drinks before them, he raised an eyebrow at the hapless corporal. “I noticed the sheets in the Swamp were distinctly un-rumpled.”

“Yep.”

“Your friend was a no show?”

“I think h-they... I think I missed them.” I think they were in my tent while I was in your tent. Talk about not getting any satisfaction. “Thanks for the space, though.”

“Klinger, you’re not giving up, are you?”

“Not giving up. Taking what I can get. Maybe that’s what I should have done from the beginning. This person... maybe they’re embarrassed of me.”

Something had been nagging at Hawkeye since Klinger had requested the use of the Swamp. Now, as he heard this sorrowful statement, a suggestion rose up. “Klinger, when you asked about using the Swamp, you asked if me and BJ would leave.”

This unexpected shift in topics left the Corporal baffled. “Sure. So what?”

“You didn’t mention Charles.”

“I knew he wouldn’t be there. He had rounds.”

“Nice try. BJ was on that night. Klinger, is there any chance that your fly by night flame is a Boston blue blood with a penchant for classical music?”

Klinger swallowed. Hard. “Hawkeye...”

“Hold up, scared eyes. I took a do no harm oath. It covered hearts as well as all the other junk. I’m not gonna hassle you. Now, tell me. Are the clever fingers you’ve been out to catch good with a scalpel?”

Klinger just nodded.

Although he’d riddled it out moments before, the confirmation rocked him. Charles? Mr. Dignity himself? And if Klinger was to be believed, the man wasn’t just good - he was ‘make you forget your previous sexual orientation and go into a post-orgasmic coma’ good.

_ It just goes to show _ , he thought. Here he was - handsome, virile, famous for debauchery. And there was Charles- balding, cold as a fish - and he’d seduced Klinger in seconds and sent his scheming into overdrive just so that Klinger could please him!  _ You think you know a guy, but does he share his secret tantric knowledge with you? No! _

“Well,” he said at last, “I can say one thing for certain.”

“What’s that, Captain?”

“I’m glad you didn’t take me up on bunk swapping!”

It sent them both into gales of laughter - Klinger because he needed the release, Hawk at the image of kissing Winchester. When they’d finished laughing, Klinger looked to the surgeon, this man he looked up to. “So what do I do now, oh willing giver of advice?”

“Bad advice,” Hawkeye acknowledged. “Charles, huh?”

Klinger looked downcast. “You going to tell me he’s out of my league?”

Hawkeye turned on his best smile. “Are you kidding? If he’s turned into any kind of a prince, it was after he kissed you. Trust me - I live with him. Who knows how great he might become once you get to kiss him back?”

“If,” Klinger reminded him.

“You know I’m terribly torn here. Part of me wants to know what he does that makes you so weak. The other part of me’s worried that if I find out, I won’t be able to look him in the face without laughing!”

“You can stop being torn, Hawk, because I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Saying that just makes me imagine the worst.”

Klinger groaned, coloring. “It’s nothing like that.” Granted he didn’t know what that Hawkeye was imagining, but he knew Hawkeye.

“You’re blushing,” he informed him. “You do know you’re talking about a doctor who barely tolerates touching conscious people. Call me medically curious.”

“Call you out of nudist magazines,” Klinger corrected. “I don’t have an answer. It’s not like we’ve talked about it.” He sounded sad about this. “But however much it seems like he wouldn’t... I don’t know how to say it.”

“Charles is more of a caretaker type than we realized?”

“Yes.”

“But we still need to find a way for you to take care of him back.” He thought for a moment. “Do you remember when Trapper and Margaret got stuck in supply?”

“It’s the Major, sir.”

“Klinger, you haven’t exactly had four star accommodations up to this point and he’s been agreeable.” He made the final word sound scandalous. “You could try to tackle him on the way to the mess tent or the showers, I guess, but then you’re in the open.” 

Klinger sighed. “I’ll figure it out, Captain.” 

***

An idea didn’t come, but Klinger thought and thought - and grew angry. If Charles was too embarrassed to be seen with him, then he should never have started this. Putting on a truly confidence boosting (as well as height boosting) pair of heels, he stomped toward the Swamp. 

He didn’t knock. Charles never did. Marching up to the Major with flashing eyes, he kissed him hard enough to bruise his mouth. 

Charles spluttered. “Good God, man! Do you know how dangerous this is?!” 

“Yeah. Here’s the thing, though, Major. I can’t do this. If you’re ashamed of me, then leave me alone. Maybe, maybe you shouldn’t show up in my tent anymore.”

Then he left. 

Or he would have if very insistent fingers hadn’t locked around his wrist. “Hold it, Corporal.” Klinger spun in his grip, but it didn’t let up. “I was trying to protect you,” Charles said slowly. “But if you wish to cast off that aspect of our relationship, I can be made agreeable. As for being ashamed, I am nothing of the sort. Now, would you like to show me what else you can do besides kiss?” 

Charles had intended these words as playful, but Klinger shook for him, longing, and he realized that he’d read his lover wrong; being loved was necessary for the young man - but it was in loving  _ back  _ that he excelled, that he flourished. He’d carried his campaign of foreplay too far it seemed. 

Klinger managed one word. “Where?” 

“Your tent has served us well enough. Do put the flaps down though, won’t you, darling?”

The endearment made Klinger shake harder. Then he nodded and went. When Charles found him again, the tent flaps were down and his belt was loose; he clearly wasn’t taking the chance that Charles would change his mind. Joining him in the bed, Charles stroked his hair. “I apologize for not making my intentions clear, Max.” He had thought his touch had spoken for him. 

“You did fine, Major. But it’s my turn, okay?”

Charles gave himself over to him - and never, not for one second later in his life - did he ever regret the choice.

***

The next day at the mess, Hawkeye lifted just two fingers to his brow and presented Klinger with a happy salute. It seemed that Charles had been acting pretty princely lately; Pierce knew just who it was that had kissed the amphibian elements right out of him. And if surgical scissors were any match for tent canvas, Hawk someday soon intended to find out how. And if he got caught, he had a built in defense. If Winchester could  _ sneak  _ into Klinger’s tent and sweetly wreck him, why couldn’t he eat popcorn and see him wrecked? If nothing else, he looked to stay entertained- at least until the mail evened out and his nudist magazines reappeared in his life! 

End! 

  
  
  



End file.
